Hunted
by Fire Gemron
Summary: Originally written for Skyrimkinkmeme. When Fae, the young dragonborn finds a severely injured man in the torture chamber of a fort belonging to some group called the Silver Hand, she chooses to help him. Of course, the stubborn Nord doesn't seem to think he needs any help.
1. Chapter 1

Gosh, it's been a long time since I've written fanfiction .

I own nothing. Skyrim belongs to Bethesda.

Fae crept slowly closer to the old fortress, nestled against the side of a rough cliff edge. Some farmers had been complaining about strange wounds coming from the snow-shrouded fort. Rumors of werewolves were even going around. To calm things down, she had agreed to go take a look, but she was beginning to regret that. Two very human guards had attacked her, but they fell to her arrows fairly quickly. Deciding not to take any chances, she crouched and pushed open the keep door, letting the tip of her arrow lead the way in.

It was considerably warmer inside, but the air was thick with the stench of blood. Her stomach turned. Just inside the doorway was a metal spike. The severed head of a werewolf was stuck on the top, it's blood staining the floor around the stake. Not quite what Fae had expected to see. She swallowed, trying to get her stomach to settle.

A roar echoed from somewhere deeper in. Fae gripped her bow tighter, her nerves jumping. She crept closer to the hallway on the other side of the foyer. The sound made her heart race, it was so raw and...inhuman.

There was a guard standing by the other end of the hallway, his back to her. They were easily taken care of, and she slowly followed the halls farther into the fort, and farther down. She guessed that she was below ground level, and the stench of blood was becoming overpowering. She became aware of a growling noise after a while, and followed it carefully. At the end of one partially collapsed hall, a room opened before her. Fae froze.

The room was large, lit by both torches and the light of a large fire pit in the center of the room. Metal irons were heating in the pit. Blood had stained the majority of the floor a dull brown. Three metal cages lined one wall. Two were entirely empty, the third held an un-moving mound of dark fur. A table nearby dripped filth onto the floor. The partially dissected body of a werewolf lay on top, surrounded by bloody, dirty tools. Hooks hung from the ceiling, dangling bits of flesh that she tried not to look too closely at. On the wall near her were racks and shelves filled with all manner of sharp and painful things. Two men in armor sat idly on some wooden chairs near a doorway opposite her. Another was heating irons in the fire. A fourth stood with his back to her, observing something. Fae shifted to the other side of the hall, trying to see what the man was looking at. Her heart leapt into her throat.

The fourth wall was dominated by a mass of silver chains, shackles, hooks and blades. hanging from the chains was a man, dressed only in torn linen pants. His arms were shackled out to the walls, above his head and he hung from the chains weakly. The silver had burned his wrists to the point that the metal shone red with blood. His bare chest was crossed with shiny burns, bruises and cuts. One of the hooks had been driven into the front of his shoulder and blood ran down his chest and stomach. The man kept his head down, dark hair obscuring his face. As Fae watched, the torturer held out one hand and the guard near the fire pit placed the wrapped grip of one of the hot irons into his hand.

"I am a patient man, wolf, sooner or later, you will tell me what I want to know," the torturer said.

The chained man raised his head and spat in the other man's face. the torturer wiped the spittle away slowly. Then, he lunged forward, yanking on the hook embedded in the man's flesh, and pressed the hot iron against his belly. the bound man howled. with a few more vicious jerks, the torturer released him and stepped back, throwing the cooling brand to the floor. The prisoner hung with his head down once more, growling, panting and shaking.

Fae swallowed hard and bit her lip. The captive, she guessed, was a werewolf, seeing the carnage around the rest of the room. She hadn't expected a werewolf to seem so... human. She slid an arrow from her quiver and took a deep breath. She would end his suffering...


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you all so much for the comments, faves and follows. It's means a lot. __I hope you all enjoy this chapter._

_Skyrim, Vilkas, and all that good stuff belongs to Bethesda. _

She slid an arrow from her quiver, and took a deep breath. She would end his suffering...

The arrow took the torturer in the back of the neck, throwing him to the floor, dead.

...one way or another.

The two guards near the door shot to their feet. The one near the fire whirled to face where the projectile had come from. Fae loosed another arrow. Even with less time to aim, it took the man in the chest, in the area of his heart. The last two were running her way now, gleaming swords drawn. She shot one in the leg (not quite where she meant to) and he toppled over, right into the fire pit. Flailing, the burning man lurched toward the opposite hallway, screaming. She soon lost sight of him. She felt a brief stab of guilt, usually she like to give cleaner deaths than that. The final guard was bearing down on her. Fae threw her weight back, pulling up her bow and shot - straight up into the guards face. He fell forward onto her. His weight pressed her to the ground for a moment. With a grimace, Fae pushed the body away and rose to her feet. A woman in armor rushed in from the opposite doorway. Fae shot her, then froze, waiting for more guards to come bursting in. The room was silent. She waited a few minutes more, then stepped toward the room. Her eyes went to the bound man and she hesitated. If he was a werewolf, and he had lost himself to the curse... She swung her bow onto her shoulder and drew the hunting knife at her hip. She, at least, would give him a clean death.

The man raised his head slightly, just enough that she could see steel colored eyes watching her from behind his black hair. Even chained and half dead, there was something intimidating about those pale eyes. Fae swallowed hard, gripping her knife and stepped closer. She coudl have sworn he growled lowly at her when she did. The man had lost to the curse after all, she realized, her heart sinking a little. She stepped in front of him, raising her knife.

"Going to kill me, then?" he asked, his voice rough, as though he had nothing to drink for day.

"Is this a trick?" she asked before she could stop herself.

The man glared at her. Even hanging from the silver chains he was taller than her. She could only imagine how tall he would be standing to his full height. "I mean, y-you're still -"

"Sane?" he growled.

Fae bit her lip. She'd already half freed this man, she had to go on. She tucked her dagger away and turned to rifle through the clothes of the dead torturer.

"Damn." She cast around the room for a moment, before going to the shelves and searching through them. ON one shelf, almost too high for her to reach, was a small box. Inside was what she was looking for: a single silver key. She returned to the man and then frowned, eyeing the hook in his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" the man snarled.

She met his eyes. "Saving you."

"I don't need saving." His voice was a low growl.

"Okay then," Fae frowned. "Tell me again how well you were doing on your own." He just glared at her. Fae cocked her head to one side with a little smile, before turning her attention to the hook again.

"Just pull it out," he growled.

Fae hesitated a moment, eyeing how far the hook was sunk into his skin. but she couldn't get him down without removing it. "Okay," she muttered softly, slipping the key into her pocket so she could wrap both hands around the weapon. The man gritted his teeth. Taking that as a sign he was ready, Fae pulled, turning it so the curve of the hook would come free. He growled. For a moment, it seemed like the hook was stuck, but it came free suddenly, making her stumble back. The wound was bleeding more freely. The young woman scrambled to find a healing potion, but she had non on her, and all the guards carried were potions to cure disease. Frustrated, she snatched a roll of linen bandages from one of the nearby shelves and pressed it tightly to the wound. He let out a pained snarl, glaring at her. up close, she could see that his ice colored eyes were rimmed with smudged black warpaint. She forced herself not to shy away from his intimidating glare. With one hand, she held the bandages. With the other she fumbled with the locks on the shackle. She unlocked the first and then carefully unlocked the second.

Free from the chains, the man slid down to the floor. Fae cursed and tried to support him, but the Nord outweighed her by quite a bit and she only ended up being dragged to the floor with him. The awkward position made her lean heavily on him. The man grunted quietly. Fae leaned back, and eyed him closely. she sill held the bandages to his injured shoulder, and couldn't help but notice how broad those shoulders were. after a moment, he placed one large hand over the bandages - and her smaller hand - holding the linen there on his own. Fae pulled back, at a bit of a loss as to what to do next. They couldn't stay there. Fae had no idea how many guards were left in the place. not to mention the death everywhere. but it was cold outside. Even a hardy Nord man would not last long dressed like the man next to her was. If she couldn't find him something warm to wear, she wasn't sure what she would do. She looked back at the man. he looked exhausted, though he tried to hide it.

"My name is Fae," she said softly.

He watched her silently for a long moment. "Vilkas," he said finally. His voice still sounded raw and hoarse.

"Stay here, I'm going to find something to help us," she said and stood. Maybe she could find something down the other hallway. She headed toward it.

"Us?" he glared up at her. She got the feeling that he didn't like taking orders.

She paused and looked over her shoulder at him. "You don't expect me to just leave you now, do you?"

He frowned and turned his dark glare to the floor.

Fae figured that was the best she was going to get, and set off, making a list of the things she would need. New bandages, clothes, an extra bedroll if she could find a clean one. And a healing potion would be a gods-send right then. She'd even take some of the medical salves she had seen other adventurers use. After a while, she came across a small room filled with several beds and dressers. Grinning in triumph, she looked through the things, pulling out a pair of boots, a rough tunic, and a large cloak made from bear pelts. There were a few waterskins on one of the dressers, so she took those too. She grabbed two more rough linen tunics and sat down on the floor, using her hunting knife to cut them into long strips. She started to stand when something under one of the beds caught her attention. She pulled it out. It was a small jar of medical ointment. She grinned at her luck and hurried back to where she had left Vilkas.

He was sitting against the wall with his chin on his chest. Fae felt a jolt of alarm. She berated herself for leaving him along for so long. She rushed over to his side, fearing the worst. Vilkas raised his head a little when she dropped to her knees next to him. She gave a sigh of relief and thrust one of the waterskins at him. He took it and drank deeply from it. Fae debated for a moment about his wounds but decided that getting out was more important right then. He didn't stop drinking until the skin was dry. When he finally put it down, she held the boots, tunic and cloak out to him. He just shook his head.

"I need to find my weapon and armor," he said. His voice was better now, deeper and lilting with a fairly thick accent. It was a nice voice, she decided. She pushed the thought away and frowned at him.

"I'm not going to waste time looking for your stuff. You're very injured. We need to get out of here and get help. I don't know how to heal, and I couldn't find any potions. Besides, in your state, I don't know if you could carry any armor," Fae frowned.

The Nord frowned at her and shoved himself upright, using the wall at his back for support.

"That wasn't a challenge!" Fae snapped. This stubborn fool was going to kill himself right in front of her. He looked unsteady for a moment, and Fae shot to her feet, placing her hands on his chest to steady him. Now that he was on his feet, she realized just how large the man was. Her eyes were level with the wound on the inside of his shoulder., and he was certainly much broader than she was. She looked up into his ice colored eyes and stamped down any feelings of intimidation. "Look, armor and weapons can be remade. Your life can't be replaced so easily," she said more calmly.

Vilkas frowned at her for a while longer, then growled. "Fine," and reached for the clothing she had brought him. She handed him the shirt. He pulled it on over his head and then reached out to take the cloak. Fae watched him sit down heavily and pull the boots on. he was pale, out of breath. The stubborn Nord only rested for a moment, though, before hauling himself up.

"Let's go," he growled.

Fae hesitated for a moment, but she wouldn't be able to stop him anyway, so she just nodded and led the way back to the entrance. He made no sounds behind her, but she saw him reach out to steady himself against the walls a few times.

"Where are you from?" she asked after a while. She wasn't trying to make idle conversation, just trying to figure out where they needed to go once they were outside.

Vilkas hesitated for a moment. "Whiterun." He didn't sound to excited to return there. She nodded and continued on.

They rested for a while in the foyer, letting Vilkas gain a little strenght back. Fae gave him the second waterskin, leaving her personal one in her back. She was sure they would need it later. The man drank a little from it, then nodded at her to show he was ready. Together, they set out.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry for the short chapters, guys. I'm going to try to work on writing longer ones. I'm still working out the longer story plot.

I own nothing. Gosh, I wish I did though.

The farmer who had originally asked Fae to look into the fortress, a man named Drell, lived only a few hours walk away. It was nearing dark as they stepped outside, however, and the rocky terrain would be dangerous in the gloom. Whiterun was several days to the southwest of them, and Fae worried about getting there safely. Vilkas had to stop fairly often, worn from so many days of pain, hunger and thirst. Fae decided it would be smart to camp before it became too dark, and pointed out a spot protected by a stone overhang with a straight, high back wall, near a shallow stream. Vilkas argued with her that they should keep moving, but Fae won in the end. She practically ordered him to stay and rest while she went to hunt and find firewood. The dark haired man seemed less than happy with her.

"Don't be dead when I get back!" she called out as she left. His only reply was a sullen glare.

She returned with a bundle of firewood and a few fish she had caught from down stream. As she set up the campfire at the edge of their shelter, she saw him sitting with his back against the flat portion of the wall, his eyes closed. He had pulled the fur cloak around to his front and it draped over him like a cloak. She smiled a little, and sat down, taking a piece of flint and steel from her pack. A few tries later, the sparks from her steel finally caught the wood and tinder. Pleased, she rifled through her bags for the cooking supplies she kept on her.

"I filled the skins," Vilkas said without opening his eyes.

"Thanks," she smiled at him, then stopped. He had cleaned the blood, dirt and old warpaint from his face, and his hair was wet. He wasn't half bad looking, she realized. Far from it, in fact, with a strong, stubborn jaw and sharp features shaded by short, dark facial hair. Along with his fierce, intense gaze, and Fae wondered how he didn't have women falling at his feet. They probably did, she thought with a bitter frown, turning back to the fire. Either that, or he scared them off.

She stole another glance at him. He probably scared women off, she decided.

Fae found some dried vegetables and herbs in her bag, along with her travelling cook pot. "We'll take care of your shoulder while dinner cooks," she called to Vilkas. He didn't answer her. Humming softly, she prepared the fish and veggies for a stew and set it over the fire. Night had set in fully, throwing shadows around at the edge of their flame light. Fae stood and stretched her back, then went to Vilkas, grabbing her bag and a waterskin on her way. She sat down beside him, pulled out the ointment and her makeshift bandages. "Let me see your shoulder."

Vilkas peeked one eye open to eye her for a moment. He sat up, letting the cloak fall around his waist and pulled of the shirt, grimacing when his shoulder pulled. He had also cleaned the blood and grime away from his chest, and Fae couldn't help but notice that that, too, wasn't half bad. Broad and strong even after days of torture, all hard muscles and lightly dusted with dark hair and scars. The bandages Fae had hastily pressed against the wound on his shoulder were still there, dried blood pasting them to his skin.

"Hold on a moment," she said. She stood and took the waterskin over to the fire, warming it for several minutes. She came back to his side, and carefully poured the heated water on the stuck bandages. Slowly, she pried the cloth away, tearing the wound open a little. Vilkas growled. When the bandages were removed, she poured more water over the wound, then gently patted it dry with a little of the clean bandages.

"I don't know any restoration magic," she said apologetically, opening the ointment jar. It smelled foul, but it would help.

Vilkas just murmured "hmm" as she spread some of the medicine on his shoulder. She tried to be as gentle as possible, but she could feel the tension in the man's body, and saw the way he gritted his teeth. He was glaring off into the darkness around them. She felt bad about hurting him, but it needed to be done. Folding one of the strips of clean cloth into a small pad, she pressed it gently against his shoulder, then used the other strips to tie it in place firmly. That done, she dipped her finger in the ointment again and smeared it over the fresh burn on his stomach. He jumped, startled, and frowned at her. She muttered a quick apology and packed up the medicine, movig to the fire.

His surliness, while it made her uncomfortable, didn't upset her too much. She had known enough prideful, stubborn men in her time to know that his attitude probably came from wounded pride, not real malice. he struck her as the kind of man that did not like having to rely on other people, let alone someone he didn't know. Still, she wished he would glare at her less. Though she had to admit that his brooding glare was intense and somehow appealing. She pushed the thought away and looked through her cooking supplies for two bowls and spoons. The food was done cooking, so she dished it out and brought one of the bowls to Vilkas. She sat down beside him and they both ate in silence.

"So," Fae said after a while, "what do you do in Whiterun and why were you...here?"

Vilkas glanced at her, swallowing a bite of the stew. "That place was a hide out for the Silver Hand," he spat the name out like it was poison. "Werewolf hunters. They wanted me to tell them how to get to my fellow members of the Companions."

Fae shot him a quick look. She was not a native of Skyrim, but even she had heard about the guild of warriors called the Companions. They were honorable fighters who helped the people of the holds, for glory and for gold.

"But...you didn't," she said slowly.

"No," he growled.

She took another few bites of her food. "Are all the Companions werewolves?"

Vilkas sighed and rubbed one hand over his face. "No, only some of us."

Fae nodded slowly. He was actually speaking to her, and that was an improvement. She didn't want to push him too hard. "There's a farm not too far from here. I think it'd be best if we stayed there for a few days before going on to Whiterun," she said softly after several minutes. She wanted to stay at the farm so he could rest, but she had a feeling that if she told him that, he would refuse, just to be confrontational.

Vilkas frowned, but he didn't argue with her. They finished eating in silence and Fae rinsed their bowls in the stream.

"I'll keep watch, so go ahead and get some sleep," she said. For a moment, Vilkas looked like he was going to argue, but he just nodded and settled back against the wall. Fae moved over to the fire. She wondered what would happen after they got back to Whiterun. Would she just leave him and go back to her normal life? He would be with his companions, and he wouldn't need her help anymore. He didn't seem to want her help anyway, so she didn't think he'd be upset if she left. That was kind of a sad thought. She sighed and ran a hand over her eyes.

She would just have to deal with later when later came. It wasn't worth getting upset over. If she'd learned anything in her life, it was that nothing lasted. She glanced back at Vilkas' still form. At least she could enjoy the view in the meantime.


	4. Chapter 4

Oh wow, I really have to thank all of you so, so much for the faves, follows, and reviews. They mean so much to me. I'm so glad that you all are enjoying the story. As long as you keep reading, I'll keep writing. ^.^

Skyrim belongs to Bethesda. Lucky buggers.

By noon the following day, they had reached the home of the farmer, Drell. The farmer and his wife were more than happy to let them stay for a few days. Fae agreed to help around the fields while the farmer's wife took Vilkas inside and saw to his injuries. She stitched his shoulder neatly, bandaged his wrists and made them a hardy stew to help him feel better. He grudgingly rested for the first day or so, but then he began to get restless. The silver made it difficult for his wounds to heal. Fae watched as the Nord became more and more agitated with his short comings. He pushed himself too hard, punishing his weak body for not being healed yet. He forced himself out of bed, even when his injuries protested. The days he spent there did a world of good for him. Still, he was too stubborn to rest like she should. Fae tried to take care of him as best she could – changing the bandages on his shoulders and wrists. - but a lot of her time was spent helping around the farm.

One night, Fae sat by the fire, frowning. She wasn't sure how much longer this could go on. Earlier that day, she had caught Vilkas out of bed. He had been out in the side garden, trying to swing a rake like a two handed sword. He twisted too far, and then flinched, almost falling. Fae had jumped to his side, barely managing to keep them an on his feet. Dark red spread beneath his shirt. He'd torn his shoulder open again. She lost her temper and yelled at him about being stubborn and stupid. He'd yelled right back, telling her how he'd never asked for her help, didn't want it, and that he wished she would just leave him alone. Stung, she had led him inside and redressed his shoulder in silence. He refused to make eye contact with her, looking at the far wall uneasily. Fae hadn't seen him for the rest of the day, busying herself outside, so she didn't have to deal with him. Now, she sat by the fire, watching the dancing flames. What was she supposed to do? She couldn't just leave him now. As nasty as he could be, she could somewhat understand why. And she wouldn't be able to forgive herself if something happened to him.

The creak of a floorboard made her look up. Vilkas stood near the door, cringing at the sound. He was dressed for traveling again with his fur cloak on, carrying a small bundle over his uninjured shoulder. Fae raised an eyebrow at him. "Going somewhere?"

He looked down at the floor uneasily. "Home. I've been here long enough."

"Alright," Fae sighed and stood. She picked up her pack, quiver and bow from where they rested beside the hearth. She'd never bothered to unpack, half expecting this scenario. "Let's go."

Vilkas looked up in surprise. "What?"

"You could barely take on a bunny rabbit right the way you are now, let alone some of the things out there." He glared at her. "Don't worry, once you're back in Whiterun, I won't bother you anymore," she finished, not looking at him.

The werewolf ground his teeth. "Look, I...apologize for what I said. I owe you a great debt for helping me."

Fae eyed him. He seemed sincere about his apology, despite the slightly grudging tone of voice. "That was really hard for you, wasn't it?"

He growled quietly. "Let's go."

Fae chuckled as they headed out into the snowy night.

They made fairly good time over the next few days, considering Vilkas was still somewhat weak. Snowy mountains gave way to wooded valley. A few days outside Whiterun, they made camp for the night.

"It wont' be long now," Fae smiled. Vilkas nodded, spreading out their bedrolls. "I'm going to get some firewood for us," she called, heading away from their secluded camp at the edge of an evergreen grove. She hummed to herself as she picked up some smaller branches for kindling. Things had gone well the last few days. Vilkas had been quiet, but nicer than before. Things were almost comfortable between them which made her surprisingly happy. She wasn't exactly looking forward to parting ways, but maybe Vilkas would finally take the time to rest once he was home. She was becoming rather fond of the man, stubborn as he was.

The roar caught her off guard. Her head snapped up, expecting to see a bear. A hand curled around her neck, hauling her off her feet. The firewood fell from her arms. She couldn't breathe. The_ thing_ hauled her bodily up against a tree, and it took her a few moments to realize she was looking into a pair of furious, ice-colored eyes.

"What have you done with my brother? Huh?" the man roared, shaking her a little. All Fae could manage was a choked bark-like sound. "I can smell him on you! What did you do to him?" It was getting hard to focus on anything other than those eyes and the pain taking over her head. Ice-colored eyes. That seemed important, if only she could focus.

"Farkas!"

The man holding her whipped his head toward the other voice, his grip on Fae loosening. She coughed, just grateful for the rush of air into her lungs. "Vilkas? Are you okay? I smelled blood."

"I'm alright, put her down," Vilkas ordered.

The other man looked at Fae before gently setting her down, his hand dropping to her shoulder to guide her into a sitting position. Vilkas came down from the hillside he stood on – their camp must be that way – and frowned at both her and the other man. When they stood next to each other, Fae couldn't help but notice the similarity between them. Brother? The bigger man must have been talking about Vilkas. Both men glanced down at her, and she realized they weren't just brothers, they were twins. Vilkas was motioning toward her, and Fae realized they were talking.

"...stayed at the farm while I...rested. We've been on our way back to Whiterun."

"They hurt you that bad?" the one called Farkas frowned. "You've been gone almost a month. We were all worried about you."

"I know. We need to get back to Jorrvaskr and warn them," Vilkas said.

"About the Silver Hand?"

Vilkas nodded. "We'll leave in the morning. Will you join us?"

"Aye, brother." The larger of the twins turned to Fae. "I didn't hurt you too badly, did I?"

She took a deep breath and rubbed lightly at the growing mark on her neck. "No, I'm alright."

Farkas rubbed the back of his neck and gave her a sheepish look. While she couldn't really blame him for being protective of his brother (the idea of anyone being protective of the stubborn Vilkas was rather cute), the pain in her neck was a reminder not to get on the large warrior's bad side. He held a hand out to her and Fae took it, a little wary. Carefully, he helped her to her feet, almost as though he was afraid he was going to break her at any moment.

Back on her feet, she gave Vilkas a smile. "Go on back to camp, I'll get the firewood."

"I'll help," Farkas offered.

Fae nodded her thanks and bent down to gather up the firewood she had dropped. Farkas helped her silently, sheepishly. She could easily imagine the man as a wolf with his ears pinned back and his tail between his legs.

"I'll go get the fire started with these, can you bring some bigger branches for it?" Fae asked, gathering the bundle of sticks to her chest.

The large warrior glanced over at her and smiled. "Sure."

She managed to give him a small smile back, and headed back to the campsite. Vilkas was sitting cross-legged on the ground when she approached. He looked up at her and frowned.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. He just scared me a little," she said and sat down to put the fire together.

The look Vilkas gave her said he didn't believe her. "I'm sorry, Farkas can be...protective." Fae glanced up at him, but he was stubbornly looking off into the woods. His jaw was tight. She considered the man for a long moment, but his look gave away nothing. She struck the flint and steel from her pack together a few times. Vilkas didn't really need her help getting back to Whiterun any longer. His brother could take care of him better than she could. She struck the flint and steel a few more times. The sparks seemed to be landing everywhere except her kindling. She wasn't looking forward to parting ways with the werewolf, she realized. As much as she tried to tell herself it was because she didn't want to go back to her boring life, inside, she knew it had more than a little to do with intense blue eyes, a defined chest and a brooding personality. She mulled the inevitable split, still trying to get the fire to start.

"Here, give me that," Vilkas grumbled, reaching around her to take the flint and steel from her. His hands were warm and rough against hers. Not exactly unpleasant. She shifted over so he could get closer to the pile of tinder. A few strikes later, and the fire had finally started. Fae sat back and smiled at the dark haired man. She thought he might have smiled back, a little, but she couldn't be sure. With a sigh, she sat forward and reached for her bag to make them something to eat. Farkas stepped out of the tree line, his arms full of thick branches.

"Here, let me take care of that," the large man said. "It's the least I can do."

"Really? Thanks," Fae smiled, scooting away from the fire. He grinned back at her and dropped the branches a little ways from the fire. He hunkered down by the fireside and started pawing through his bag. She watched him for a while. If she had thought Vilkas was large, then Farkas was a bloody giant. Yet, aside from his attack, it was easy to see that he was the more gentle of the two. If they had met differently they may have been good friends. She tucked her knees to her chest and glanced over at Vilkas.

"How's your shoulder?"

Vilkas grumbled noncommittally.

Fae snorted quietly. "We should probably clean it."

Vilkas frowned, but did not bother to argue with her. He straightened and pulled his short off. Fae grabbed her medical kit from her back and scooted closer to him, eying the wound on his shoulder. It was looking much better, the neat stitches were still intact, and the area around the wound was less red than the last time she had looked at it. It would probably have been fully healed, if the weapon had not been silver. Smiling, she pulled out the medical ointment and carefully spread it on the wound. It was a familiar ritual now. Vilkas watched her lightly wrap his shoulder again.

"Wrists," Fae said. With a sigh, Vilkas obediently held out his arms to her. She unwrapped the bandages and inspected the abrasions underneath. Humming, she spread some medicine on them as well, and wrapped them gently. Farkas glanced up at them occasionally. With the medical care done, Fae flopped down onto her back and looked up. Clear, bright starts flickered against the backdrop of the sky. The sky in Skyrim was always so pretty.

"What will you do now, Fae?" Farkas asked, trying to start conversation.

"I don't know," she said, tucking her arms under her head. "I could continue on with you, or go back."_ Back to being a baker in Windhelm? Or back to hunting vermin in a farm? Neither pays very well._

"You could come to Jorrvaskr. The Companions always have room for good warriors," the big man continued.

Fae sat up, both men watching her. "I'm not a warrior," she laughed.

"You killed the Silver Hand in that fortress," Vilkas pointed out.

"With a bow. Anyone who's hunted could have done that," she argued.

"What do you do then?" Farkas asked.

"Nothing particularly interesting or glamorous," Fae dodged the question. "Tell me more about the Companions."

Farkas told her about some of the jobs they had been sent on, taking out vampires and Falmer. Vilkas added in information about the origins of the group, and for once, he didn't seem so upset. He was obviously proud of being a Companion, and proud of their history. They both weaved a story about a time they had cleared out a group of witches, Farkas sheepishly recounting how he ruined their ambush by setting off a fire trap.

"It was okay, though, because it burned half the place down," he finished, grinning. Fae couldn't keep herself from laughing.

"It's getting late, and we'll start early tomorrow," Vilkas said, smirking. The other two agreed, and Farkas offered to take the first watch, which was fine by Fae. She stretched out on the ground near the fire and looked up at the sky, falling asleep to the quiet nighttime sounds of the evergreen forest.


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey everyone. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update. I've been struggling to figure out where to go with this story, and what to do with it. I've gotten so many reviews that I just couldn't abandon it. I hope you like this chapter, even though it's shorter, and I hope you like the direction I'm deciding to go in. _

_I don't own anything_.

She woke a few hours before dawn, when both of the twins were still sleeping. The sun was just barely beginning to rise. Fae gathered up her things and paused, looking back at the sleeping men. Her eyes lingered on Vilkas for a long moment before she tore her eyes away and began hiking away from their camp. A part of her was waiting for one of the brothers to call out for her. No one did. She told herself that it was for the best. If she went to Jorvaskarr, someone may recognize her. She had spent too long running from her past to risk someone bringing it up again.

No matter how much she genuinely did like the brothers.

She glanced back one time and whispered, "Goodbye, Vilkas. Goodbye Farkas."

After some debate, she decided to head west to Markarth, even though that would take her past Whiterun. A new beginning would be best for her right now. She had heard that there were a lot of archeologists working in Markarth, maybe she could get work as a bodyguard or something like that. She was a little sad to be leaving such good (and attractive) company so soon. She felt that she truly could have become friends with the brothers.

Fae looked toward the dawn, thinking of huge wings, and heavyily scaled bodies.

Markarth wasn't a bad city. At one point in her life, it has fascinated Fae, enthralled her with it's beautiful dwemer architecture. Now, weeks after leaving the twins, she was more interested in the tankard of ale sitting on the bar before her. She was sitting with her chin sitting on the bar, thinking about getting drunk so she wouldn't have to miss company and companionship. Her mind kept thinking of Vilkas, wondering if his wounds had healed. Had his brothers at Jorvaskarr been happy to see him? No one was ever happy to see her. Did he miss her? Did she miss him? She thought she did. It may have had something to do with the fact that he was one of the few people she had actually gotten semi close with in a while.

All the others, after all, were dead.

The door opened behind her opened, but Fae was more interested in trying to drink her alcohol without actually lifting her head. The innkeeper ignored her in favor of greeting the newcomer. Only halfway listening, Fae heard something about looking for an architecture assistant. She cringed and tried to keep from lifting her head. The innkeeper, however, must have sold her out, because in a matter of moments she felt a hand on her arm.

"Your employer sent me to find you," a gruff voice said from behind her.

"'M not done yet," she answered.

The man slipped his hand under her bicep and levered her out of her stone seat. Glaring, Fae whirled on him, only to stop short, her dark look falling away. Vilkas, to his credit, seemed just as surprised to see her. He released her and frowned.

"What are you doing here?" Fae asked.

"I could ask you the same," he answered.

Her eyes flickered over his metal armor. "I see you've healed well." He just snorted.

"We got a contract from some of the scholars here," Vilkas said finally. "They're going to be opening some kind of vault, and didn't think the one bodyguard they had would be enough."

Fae swore under her breath. "They could have at least warned me."

"You told me you weren't a warrior," Vilkas glared, his voice carried an underlying accusation.

"I wasn't. I'm not. Look it doesn't matter."

He literally growled at her, reaching out to grab her by the bicep again. "It does matter. You lied to me," he snarled.

"If you're going to fight," the innkeeper interrupted from behind them, "take it outside."

Fae sighed, yanked her arm from Vilkas' hold and stomped out the door. She wasn't sure if she should be happy to see him again, or if she should be upset that her carefully controlled little world may soon be coming apart.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi guys. Thank you so much for all the faves, follows and reviews. It really makes a lot of difference. A lot of you asked about Fae's race. I tried to put some more description of her in this time.**

**I don't own anything.**

Fae had only made it up the first set of stairs outside the inn before Vilkas caught up to her. He placed one large hand on her shoulder to stop her. "Where are you going?"

She turned and looked up into his ice colored eyes, her eyebrows raised incredulously. "My home? After all, you just ruined my plans for this evening, and I don't think the scholars want to start their expedition at midnight," she snapped.

"I think we have some things we need to talk about before you go get drunk," he sneered.

"Why?" Fae asked. "You never wanted my help in the first place, you have no right to be angry that I left!"

Ignoring the surprised look on his face, she pulled her shoulder away and continued up the steep stone steps. She really didn't want to deal with him that night. Things had changed too much since she had left them. He was following her up toward Vlindrel Hall, but she was determined to ignore him. Maybe she could deal with him in the morning, but she had drunk too much that night to even being to try.

"Fae!" He called.

She stopped and turned to him, one hand on the mountain on the side of staircase. She was literally only five steps from her door. "Oh, you _do_ remember my name! Then maybe you could try using it instead of just grabbing me all the time!" Whirling, she crossed the distance to her door and wrenched it open.

He nearly caught her again, stopping just outside the door to snarl, "If you told anyone…"

"I haven't," she snapped. "Now goodnight."

And with that, she slammed the heavy metal door in his face. Angry, she stormed through the house to her room. Argis looked up, his eyes wide and startled, but didn't say anything. Having dealt with her since she had come home from the Throat of the World a few weeks ago, he knew that she was hurting. She wouldn't tell him what happened, but the housecarl could clearly tell that something had occurred that day that had scarred her deeply. She had not been the same calm, sweet person when she had come through the metal door that night, her eyes red from crying.

For her part, Fae retreated to her room, and sat down on her bed, too angry to do anything except glare at her own reflection in a polished metal mirror. As a Breton, she felt like she stuck out like a sore thumb in Skyrim, so much smaller than ninety percent of the populace. Her dark red hair had been braided earlier that day, but had mostly come out of the plait to fall around her face. There were dark circles under her gray eyes. Even she had to admit she looked rather like hell.

Her anger faded as she looked at her dull reflection. She felt guilty for blowing up at Vilkas like that, and knew she owed him an explanation. She sighed, and laid back on her bed. Her stomach turned sourly.

There was a soft knock on the stone of her door frame, and Fae looked up to see Argis standing there with a small tray of food and a goblet of water. "Eat this, my Thane, it will help." He crossed to the small table that stood next to her bed, set the tray down, and left the room.

"Thank you," she called after him.

At some point, Fae fell asleep, and woke with an awful headache. Groaning, she rolled onto her side and curled into a tight ball. The pounding in her head was awful sharp and sounded a lot like knocking.

Someone was knocking, she realized slowly. She dragged her linens over her head, trying to ignore it, but the knocking continued. "What?" she barked finally.

"I'm sorry, my Thane, someone is here to see you," Argis' voice was muted by the door, but still audible.

"Ugh, fine, I'll be out in a moment." She stayed curled up for a little while longer, before hauling herself out of bed, one hand pressed to her forehead, her eyes closed. Stumbling to her door, she pulled opened and stepped out.

The large dining room between her room and Argis' was lit warmly by a fire in the hearth to her left. The table was bare, except for a tankard of water and a minor healing potion. Once again, she spared a thought for how well her housecarl took care of her. She drank the potion quickly. It tasted awful, with a strange bitterness that lingered on her tongue. Quickly, she washed it down with the water. Taking a deep breath, she felt her headache diminishing. Ready to face her guest, she pushed her red hair back from her face and headed into the kitchen.

There was a much smaller, more intimate wooden table near the cooking hearth. Both Argis and her dark haired guest were sitting at the wooden table, the guest with his back to her. She had a bad feeling about the familiarity of the large, dark haired man.

"Good morning," she said. Vilkas twisted around to frown at her. "I take it the expedition is leaving today?" she asked him.

"Yes. I was sent to get you."

Fae sighed and nodded. "If you haven't had breakfast, you're welcome to eat something while I get ready." The Companion didn't move, his ice colored eyes locked on her. Trying not to let his glare upset her (and failing), she leaned over Argis' shoulder to grab a sweet roll and retreated to her room. Carefully, she unbraided her tangled hair, brushed it, and plaited it. Changing into clean clothes, she pulled on her leather armor, strapped on her Dragonbone Dagger, and grabbed her bow and arrows. As she was leaving, she shoved the last of her sweet roll in her mouth.

"I'm ready whenever you are," she announced to Vilkas as she entered the kitchen. He stood up silently and headed for the door. Fae gave Argis a slightly grim smile and waved as she followed Vilkas out.

It was early out, bright and sunny. Fae had to walk quickly to keep up with Vilkas' long strides. "Look, I owe you an apology for last night."

"Doesn't matter," he said, without turning around.

"Yes, it does," she argued.

Vilkas stopped on the stair below her and turned. "Look, once this job is over, we will both go our separate ways, and you can go back to drinking yourself into a stupor, since that's what you'd prefer to do."

Fae sighed deeply and shook her head. If that was how he wanted it, then there was little she could do. Silently, she followed the man down to the caverns that led around under the Jarl's keep. One was boarded up tightly, with guards standing outside the lone gate. Three scholars appointed to the expedition were waiting for them outside. They greeted the two warriors warmly, and Fae smiled politely in return. The guards unlocked the door and let the expedition enter. Vilkas immediately went inside, leading the others inside. Fae sighed and took up the rear. As the darkness of the ruins closed in around them, Fae found that she really did not want to be going down there.


End file.
